All That I'll Ever Need
by magically-muddled
Summary: She'd been cursed, the sea calling to her and running through her veins. That was long before the heavy bracelet was placed on her wrist. (CS Pirate/Princess, Neverland AU)
1. Prologue

Hello!

I've always adored the Neverland Arc, which was when I began to write about OUAT, and it's when I came up with this little multi chapter idea. The recent resurgence in fantastic Neverland stories inspired me to continue, and I'd like to thank Light-and-Smoke, who helped me iron out the kinks months ago! The inspiration comes from Pirates of the Caribbean 4, and the title from Ed Sheeran's "Tenerife Sea".

Thanks for reading, and feedback is like a hug x

...

 **Prologue**

The island was beautiful.

The sky did not meet the water's edge - it melded with it, the deep bruising purples sinking into the bleak depths. At first glance, stars lit the sky, each shining dot twinkling in the fractured moonlight - _second star to the right and straight on til morning._ This was of course a tale designed to warm the heart of every child who had ever cowered in a corner, alone, abandoned, devoid of hope. They were not stars but fireflies, literal _fire_ flies that burned hotter than any sun, searing skin the moment you were a fraction too close. The moon was real enough, casting an etheral glow across the inky black ocean. It never rose higher than the shoreline, and at present it seemed to be trapped by skull rock, a sickening light petering between the rock formations and creating a bright, unblinking eye in the skull.

The ocean was calm, worringly so, the only mark on the gentle lapping of the waves a rickety rowing boat. The crew of the Jolly Roger were bunched inside, agitatedly waiting for their predators. The middle aged men, he had chuckled, would be the perfect bait. For mermaids loved nothing more than to lure men to their deaths. Pathetic creatures, he had remarked, were the favoured prey of the etheral hunters.

Their Captain stood on the shoreline, a slight tic in his jaw the only sign of his anger. He had not lost the Jolly Roger - he would sooner die - but had to enter into a gentleman's agreement with the impish child who was anything but. Legend had said Peter Pan had sold his soul to the devil himself to retain his boyish youth, retaining all of the shrewd, calculating menace a grown man could possess. It was only fitting such a thoroughly dislikable character would see fit to call such a thoroughbly dislikable island home.

Pan wielded magic that had rendered The Captain's superior sailing capability useless. Nothing could outrun the Jolly unless Lucifer himself had a hand in it, and he most certainly did. There was no option, the guns and cannons useless, even plunging his hook into the boys chest did little more than produce a sickeningly childish giggle from the demon. He had agreed to help the boy with his endeavour, but there was no mention of his crew being used as bait. If anything, he had anticipated the deserters from Blackbeard's sunken ship to be the first candidates for the suicide mission. Even before the men had joined with Pan, he would've been reluctant to piss on the depraved drunkards and all round appalling sailors if they were on fire.

"It seems counter productive" Hook remarked coolly, eyes fixed on his doomed crew, "To lure such treacherous creatures to the shore, on an island where every step is a potential trick"

"Not that I don't appreciate your subtle attempts to understand my plan Killian" Pan stage whispered, scanning the shoreline with a demented tinge of excitement, "But I'd prefer to remain tight lipped on the details"

Hook leaned towards him, "Everyone knows your after the chalices, mate"

"Oh, do they, _mate_? I think you'll find that not everyone is privy to all the information regarding the chalices. There are items to be gathered before even attempting to gain the power from them" Pan crossed his arms casually, eyes fixed on the floating bait.

"Such as a mermaid?" Hook ventured irritably, thumb running along the end of his sharp appendage, the action normally calming him.

"I see your keen Navy perception has not deserted you"

"Seeing the bloody obvious has not deserted me"

"There are more items for collection" Pan quickly interjected, keen to have the upper hand once again.

"The bones of my crew, perhaps" Hook's sarcasm dripping with anger.

"No, it's just more fun to lure them out this way" Pan whispered, his child-like glee chilling.

 _Them._

The calm waters of Neverland began to change, slowly. One or two ripples began to rock the boat, the men watching carefully. A voice caught on the wind, quietly, growing louder. She sang sweetly, her beautiful voice melodic against the dark night,

 _I'll tell you a tale of the bottomless blue_

 _And it's hey to the starboard, heave-ho_

 _Brave sailor beware, for a big 'un's a-brewin'_

 _Mysterious fathoms below_

Hook snapped from his reverie, shaking off the warm feeling the voice produced in his chest. Squinting at the boat, he realised the crew were no longer alone, as a young woman held onto the edge of the boat.

Her long, dark hair flowed down her back and into the ocean. Jade green shells nestled in her dark curls, matching the scales that covered her upper body, just visible above the murky depths. Her dark eyes were wide as she smiled sweetly at the crew,

 _Heave-ho, heave-ho_

 _I'll sing you a song of the king of the sea_

 _And it's hey to the starboard, heave-ho_

 _The ruler of all of the ocean is he_

 _In mysterious fathoms below_

She crossed her arms on the edge of the boat and tilted her head to the side. Entranced, Stevens, a crew member they had picked up years ago, edged towards her as her voice rang out once again,

 _Fathoms below, below_

 _From whence wayward westerlies blow_

 _Where Triton is king and his merpeople sing_

 _In mysterious fathoms below_

By this point, Stevens was barely inside the boat. his chin just skimming the water as he tried to get ever closer to the creature. She smiled the sweetest smile Hook had ever seen, running her thumbs along his jaw. Her hands made a slow path down his face and his neck, as she rose up to meet his lips. His eyes were closed in expectation as she gently brushed her lips against his, her hands fisting in his lapels.

He opened his eyes in confusion, waiting for the proffered kiss as she giggled sweetly, before pulling him sharply into the murky depths. The spell was broken; the men began to panic and scream, jostling in the boat. The waves became frenzied, as the other mermaids rose to the surface, the water a mix of beatiful young women and tails thrashing.

Hook tried to move, Pan's enchantment locking him in place. He could only watch helplessly as the little rowing boat was overturned, his men fighting against the mermaids as they were dragged to the depths.

Pan signalled and the Lost Boys at either side of the cove wrangled some rope, the line lifting in the water. It was some sort of fishing net, and the mermaids began to rise to the surface with anguished screams.

The water frothed as the men and the mermaids tusseled, the fishing nets only adding to the confusion. Pan sighed, almost in mock boredom, as he flicked his wrist. The slightly sinister, if not harmless, skull rock began to shake, a line of fire slithering from its eye. The magical snake danced along the waves, before engulfing the whole expanse of water.

It wasn't the usual kind of heat to accompany fire (Hook had fought many a battle on a burning ship) but it crackled with an energy that was most definitely magical. He and Blackbeard's men covered their eyes as the fire sunk below the waves; suddenly, the mermaids began swim frantically to shore.

His crew were also helplessly trying to reach the sandbank, and Hook instintively tried to reach them. The magic that had held him in place no longer pulled at him, and he had a moment of brief doubt, wondering if this was all part of the plan. Before he could give that niggle any more consideration, he ran into the waves, grabbing the back of Smee's shabby coat and all but hauling him towards the shore.

The mermaids began to rear their heads, screeching and reaching towards the Boys with the ropes. An extension of their arm, almost like seaweed, shot across and whipped the Boys from their perches, pulling them into the frantic water.

One of the younger deck hands - a slip of a lad, by the name of Henry - coughed and spluttered as he emerged from the dark water, his thick fringe plastered across his face. Depositing Smee on the dry sand with an unceremonious _ooof_ Hook began to wade out to where the young boy struggled. A pair of female hands grabbed at Henry's tattered waistcoat, and Hook propelled himself forward, pointy appendage raised.

Henry stumbled forward and Hook paused... the hands were propelling the boy, not dragging him to the depths. Usually the aquatic creatures had no qualms about harming children, simply for the crime of being male. Deciding against his better judgement (because this could very well be a trap) he fisted his hand in the front of the young boys shirt, pulling him forward.

The electric current, the magic fucking fire serpent Pan had unleashed on the water began to rise from the depths, the thrashing of the water ceasing as his magic failed to continue to harm the mermaids. Pan's magic began to rumble and shake, the Island itself shaking with the mystical powers. The fire began to spread, hurtling across the water and straight towards the pair.

Sweeping the boy over his shoulder hastily, Hook began to wade back to shore, the magic prickling at the back of his neck. His foot caught, and as he tried to kick the seaweed away, fear curled at him as nimble fingers gripped at his ankle. With a sharp tug, he sprawled forward, curving his body to protect Henry from the fall.

He waited for a darkness that never came, eventually bobbing to the surface. Henry floated next to him, a wry smile playing across his boyish features.

"Bloody hell lad" Hook laughed, gripping the material at Henry's shoulder, "I don't know how we got out of that one"

The feeling of soft sand under his boots had never felt quite so pleasant, nor had the look of fury on Pan's face, "Fishing trip failed then? Bad luck"

Pan's dark eyes flickered over Henry's shoulder, "I wouldn't gloat just yet Killian"

"There's one left" Felix called excitedly, one of Pan's more odious Lost Boys. Boy was a relative term, they were boys once. Now caught within the cycle of Neverland, they had the appearance of late teenagers, but the maturity of children. Sadistic, cold, killing children. Felix heaved at the nets, as his catch thrashed at the waves, "She was the last one left... She's clearly too stupid to have left with the rest"

"Now now" Pan muttered, stepping into the shallows to see his prize, "Let's not insult our guest"

Henry practically tripped over himself to join the rest of the Lost Boys in the shallows and see the creature for himself. Not many a man had lived to tell the tale of a mermaid, and Hook had often heard the boy incessantly babble about mythical creatures and knights and curses. He laid his hook on the boys shoulder, urging him behind his own body. He'd not gone to all that trouble to rescue the little sod for him to be cursed by a sea witch.

Felix pulled the next back with a flourish, the creature pulling away from her rope prison. Her tail was deep rose gold, golden scales running along her supple body, merging into ivory skin. Hook had always found it curious their scales covered their upper body in a tantalisingly chaste way. _One last torment for a sailor, indeed._ Her hair was long, golden as the sun, hanging in damp waves. Minute shells adorned her damp curls, in what could only be described as a crown.

She looked furious, and Hook had never seen any woman look so beautiful in all his life. Her jaw was set, as she glared at each of them in turn, and he felt like he was looking into the sun. Her green eyes flashed beneath a set of long lashes and he knew.

He knew that shade intimately, he knew every fleck of oceanic green and amber.

 _He had found the Lost Princess._


	2. Chapter 1

**As ever, thank you for reading!**

 **...**

It had been ten years.

Ten years since Emma had set foot on dry land, smelt trees and flowers, touched grass and felt the heat of the sun. Her past life no longer felt like memories, but a story that she told herself to ease the loneliness.

The morning of her eighteenth birthday, Princess Emma had woken early to a pile of presents at the foot of her bed, each wrapped with snowy white paper and a golden ribbon. Her mother had arranged for a beautiful breakfast to be lain out in her chambers as a special treat (unmarried women were supposed to eat in the dining room), the scent of cinnamon porridge and French Toast making her mouth water.

Nibbling on a corner of toast, she gazed at the dress hanging in the corner, the soft grey iridescent in the morning sun, jewels and feathers decorating the neckline. There was a small parcel in amongst the hundreds of others, a black box decorated by a red bow. Ignoring the possibility that it may have been placed there by a secret admirer (she was not one of those pining damsels, thank you very much), she pulled it onto her lap, slowly untangling the ribbon and opening it.

At its centre lay a bracelet. Emma had always preferred her jewellery to be slight and discreet, usually a minimal amount of precious gems - for a Princess - adorning her neck. The bangle was thicker than usual, and she tested its weight with a frown. It was unexpectedly light in her palm, incredibly so, and the sun caught in the sapphires that formed sea horses across it. The gift betrayed her love of the sea, and _that_ familiar blue shade of the gems causing her heart beating irratically.

Emma could only remember snatches from that point. Slipping the gift onto her wrist, the difficult in breathing, the air thick and gritty, finding herself on her balcony and then falling, falling, falling...

Her body had changed in an instant, a golden tail uncurling from her nightdress. She had floated to the surface, watching the peaceful castle through her tears.

And then nothing.

It was as though there was a constant black fog creeping through her mind. Yes, she could still remember her childhood. She remembered chasing her father along through the Grand Hall, giggling uncontrollably as he "fell" and surrenedered to her; she remembered being taught how to shoot by her Mother, and learning to swordfight with her father. She remembered telling her Mother through her tears that her skills as a dancer were lacklustre, and there was no way she could have a debutante ball. And she remembered her first ball, her father allowing her to dance on his feet just as she did when she was a child. She even remembered the day her parents solemnly told her about Queen Regina, and the curse she had inflicted upon them - that they would never age. The seemed a bonus to thirteen year old Emma, as opposed to a disappointment, but over time she learned. Her parents were trapped, but she was not. She would live and die before their very eyes, whilst they remained twenty eight and thirty. She had been assured that the Blue Fairy, a kind and powerful purveyor of magic, was working on a cure, and she tried not to think on it.

As each year passed whilst she was trapped beneath the ocean, and no one came, her memories became darker and hazier. She had endeavoured to get back to shore, to raise the alarm and get help, and every time the bracelet had pulled her down. She knew the enchantment prevented her from reaching shore, but there was no such magic preventing her family. Indeed, her Kingdom had one of the most powerful Navy's in all the realms, and she had not seen one hint of a ship bearing their mark in ten years. She grew to hate the ships and men she once adored as a child.

Incarceration by a homicidal teenager and his group of children was just another bump in the road. Her life had fallen apart the moment she had turned eighteen, so whilst this incident was slightly stressful, she hadn't exactly had an easy life so far. Her main concern was Pan required a mermaid, but she was just a cursed Princess. Whatever he needed, she was of no use and expendable. Worryingly so.

The party meandered through the thick foliage aimlessly, despite the steady path that Pan cut. There were Lost Boys in front of her, behind her, around her. She completely and utterly trapped. Emma half heartedly pushed against the lid of the coffin, though it didn't budge at all. It clearly didn't occur to her captors, but she needed air; fresh, clean air. She pushed against it again with no luck. She was already feeling light headed. It was only a matter of time until she slipped into a thick, dreamless sleep.

He'd been staring at her since the moment she'd been hurled into the coffin. It wasn't vague repulsion, nor unsettling lust like the other Boys, the members of _his_ group had displayed. Nor was it the outright fear one or two of the middle aged Pirates (clearly superstitious) or the repulsive ogling of the other men. The boy was curious, his young face watching her closely, his eyebrows knitted low in concern.

He turned to his older companion, tugging on his thick leather coat, gesturing towards her. The man seemed torn between remaining with the boy and keeping as far away from her coffin as possible.

During her younger years, Emma had loved to read tales of dashing knights and dastardly pirates. One of her favourite days would be watching the naval fleet leave port, their snowy white sails disappearing off into the horizon, to patrol their waters and protect the Kingdom from scoundrels. There had always been a Naval Captain in the nursery, but she never played with the toy, as a strange mark of respect to him and his profession.

Indeed, at the ball to celebrate her seventeenth birthday, Emma had insisted that the invitation extended to all the members of the Royal Navy. Charming had been suspicious, but Snow didn't say a word, just an infuriatingly knowing smirk highlighting her features. Of course, Emma couldn't fully have her way, as only higher ranking officers were invited, (which suited her plan just fine) but she spent the evening dancing with _nearly_ all of them. It had been one of the best nights of her life, and she had promised herself to make her eighteenth birthday even better. It just never came.

The man in the leather coat was exactly what she imagined a pirate to be, right down to the penchant for leather, eye liner and the gleaming hook. She hadn't quite anticipated his handsome face, stubbled jaw, eyes that rivalled the clearest ocean and tousled hair that longed to be touched.

His gaze flickered towards her as though he was assessing her situation, but he carried on, ignoring the younger boys protests. A portly man in a red beanie made up the rest of their rag tag group, pushing the boy forward, blushing cheeks determined not to look at her.

Black dots had began to appear at the corner of her vision by the time Pan ordered the group to a halt. The four Boys carrying her prison lowered her down, and she barely noticed the jolt, feeling the claws of unconsciousness tightening their grip.

The young boy who seemed entirely perplexed by her scrambled forward, despite the man in the red beanie attempting to hold the back of his collar. He knelt next to the coffin, rapping against the glass with his knuckle. The cage was somewhat soundproof, but as he leant his forehead against the glass she could faintly hear him ask, "What do you need?"

She licked her lips feverishly, pushing weakly against the lid as a half hearted signal. Every other member of the group had treated her with contempt, but there was something about this boy that gave her a flicker of hope.

The boys eyes brightened, "We need to open it, she needs air" He pulled at the lock, tugging at the lid.

"Henry, is it?" Pan's voice was deeply sarcastic, though it appeared the boy knew no other tone, "I really do not think its best to let our catch out of our hold"

"But she's drowning" Henry argued impatiently, "Well, suffocating or _whatever_ , she's dying... Please, Hook"

"I support the boy's position" The handsome Pirate (Hook, she assumed) added, his thumb wedged in his ostentatious belt buckle, "She's not exactly going to flip away"

An icy silence fell across the sweltering party, so Henry took the opportunity of the staring contest between Hook and Pan to pull the sword from Felix's belt, pushing it under the glass lid and turning it, allowing the lid to raise by a few millimetres. It was all that was needed as Emma pulled herself up greedily, the fresh clean air like a salve to her burning, aching throat.

Felix took his sword back, pulling it sharply from from its latched position. Emma flinched, expecting the box to snap shut again. However, nothing happened and she opened her eyes in confusion to see the Hook's hook had taken the sword place.

Henry's wide eyes and mouth that formed a perfect O were almost comical, had Emma's situation not been quite as grave as it was. Hook, minus his appendage, stood in the exact position she'd last seen him in, though he was slightly smirking at Pan.

"Killian" Pan muttered gently, the name hanging in the air like an ominous warning.

"An inch won't make a difference, mate" Hook reasoned, his eyes briefly flickering to the coffin, and back to his enemy.

Keeping her lips against the thin opening, Emma attempted to control her breathing, although her current panic had nothing to do with suffocating and everything to do with _him._ The realisation that he was standing in front of her hit her with the force of a cresting wave. It had been ten years, but he still had the power to take her breathe away.

...

It was thick, stifling, clinging onto every pore. The trees groaned from the pressure, the tropical creatures hid in the cooling shadows. Nothing could ease the never ending, constant drain the Neverland air caused.

One of the Lost Boys became too fixated on clearing his sweat logged brow - an overzealous wipe, the failure to concentrate, a toe under a root and he slipped, bringing the entire crew that carried the glass coffin tumbling to the earth.

It shattered in an instant, the waters steaming the moment they touched the parched earth. Emma slid into the mud, her golden tail curling and flailing despite her best efforts. Her fingers slid into the warm sticky earth. It was cool, the water dampening the mud into the sludge she used to make pies of as a child. It had been years since she'd touched ground that was firm and solid, that wouldn't disappear at the change of a tide. It smelt, that distinctly _earthy_ , slightly musty smell - how she had missed it. Her attention was soon caught by a slipping sensation - like the world was turning on it's axis. Not the world, but her. Her eyes widened as her golden scales slipped from her tail, revealing two, long pale legs.

She inched forward, curling herself into a ball as each set of hungry eyes burned into her skin. She could do nothing, using only her arms and her golden locks for protection. The other Pirates, not Hook's men, had been gesturing and appraising her all day, but their whoops of glee at her legs returning has her stomach rolling with dread.

Peter inched towards her, a condescending gleam flickering across his pupils. She could practically feel his joy burning down on her as she lost her last vestige of hope, of strength, lying defenceless and naked in the dirt.

She could hear rustling behind her, curling smaller as the thought of teenage boys jostling for position turned her stomach. She felt material drape over her shoulders as a strong set of arms pushed the garment around her fully, in a clumsy attempt to afford her some dignity.

Her breath caught as his bright blue eyes softened, a half smile of sympathy playing across his features. His stubble gently grazed her cheek as he pulled his shirt this way and that, trying to find the perfect position. She blushed; not from her exposure, but from his kindness.

Hook stood, using all his height to block her from the letcherous stares of the Lost Boys and the other pirates. Her heart thudded as she eyed his heavy leather overcoat, haphazardly flung on the ground next to them. She couldn't help the path her eyes took, tracing the slim v of his hips, the subtle yet evident lines of his powerful chest, the dark hair that covered him, the intricate crucifix tattoo that adorned his his upper bicep and shoulder, his broad shoulders - and then she saw it. The leather contraption that criss-crossed along his arm and bare shoulder, in order to secure his notorious hook, which at that moment was snapped into place, having been retrieved from the shattered glass. She felt a perverse desire to reach out and touch it - the dark, cracked leather, the worn brass buckles.

"You will walk"

Her green eyes flicked to Pan, rage building there. With all the graces she had been born with, she attempted to pull her self up. She knew the cursed bracelet never allowed her to return to shore; she'd never been out the water to regain her legs before. She was as wobbly as the new born foals in the Royal Stable. Her new feet sank into the mud, her legs weak and failing from the moment she flexed them. She slipped further with a timid squeak, her knees trembling from the pressure. The strong sets of arms returned, his hand curving round across her stomach as she leant wearily against his clammy, bare chest. Her hand snaked along his left wrist for support, her fingers winding round the cool metal of his hook. It was no good - even with Hook holding the majority of her weight, she had not walked in ten years. The shame, the _humiliation_ burned through her, sharp and hot. She wanted to cry, feeling the sting of treacherous tears pricking at her eyes, and she slid away from him, returning to the cool dirt, her eyes cast down as she muttered, "I can't"

Pan raised an eyebrow, "Walk or die"

"I'll die then" Emma challenged, her jade eyes cold. There was no way Pan had gone to all the effort to capture and transport her, unharmed, just to simply kill her when she could not follow one little order.

It was the first time she'd seen it - a hint of hesitation in his sadistic face, "Don't think I'm wasting my magic on you. I will drag you across this island"

Pulling the shirt around her chest tightly, the mermaid squared her shoulders and raised a challenging eyebrow.

To her side, Hook knelt on one knee, "Put you arms around me" he murmured gently, wrapping his good arm round her waist, whilst securing the dark material against her.

"I'm not asking for your help" Emma muttered, shifting away from his embrace.

Bright blue met stormy green as his forehead rested against hers for a fraction of a second, "You need it"

Carefully, he moved his hooked arm underneath her new legs and renewed his grip around her lower back. She'd only ever been this close to man under the watchful eyes of her parents and his proximity was overwhelming, his warm breath fanning over her cheek and neck. This close to her, the kohl around his eyes wasn't quite as prominent, the scruff on his jaw not quite as distracting. Up close, his eyes were fantastically blue, bright and wide and just as captivating as they had been ten years ago. She'd never been this close to a man, yet she'd always dreamed of being this close to _him_.

His skin was hot under her fingers, his damp muscles rolling as her arms wound round his neck. She sighed slowly, taking a moment to settle her racing heart as he gradually stood, lifting her in the air. If her heart wasn't already stuttering, the fact he carried as though she was lighter than a feather threw it into a frenzy.

Hook raised an eyebrow at Pan, a flippant smile dancing across his lips, "We're in a hurry, yes?"

The corner of Pan's mouth tilted slightly, his eyes firmly fixed on the defiant mermaid, "Don't fall behind"

...

The jungle appeared to be thickening the further they ventured into the island. The path they were weaving became less uniform and more treacherous, the grasses merging into a thick blanket that caught in their boots.

Hook spent the majority of the trek frowning as he carefully inched along, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth in concentration.

Emma cleared her throat, aware that she had been staring at his mouth for perhaps a _little_ longer than was strictly appropriate, and looked down. Unfortunately, down was his chest, and the hair that led a trail to somewhere that would've been a whole new issue, and so her gaze fell to over his shoulder.

The sweet kid - Henry - was trekking immediately behind them, Hook's leather coat swamping his smaller frame. He bounded along behind them regardless, like an over excited puppy. His mouth had opened and shut several times with unspoken questions since she'd regained her legs. He paused, and then quickly burst, "What's your name?"

The podgy frowny man with the red beanie - Smee, or whatever - huffed loudly, indignant that Henry was actually talking to her.

"Emma"

She could've imagined it, but she was sure she felt Hook's muscles tense beneath her fingers, but from the profile of his face he gave no indication he had heard or cared. She turned fully in his arms to address the boy, breasts pressed against his chest and shoulder, trying to remain as regal as she could, despite all her attention fixed on the man that carried her. He lifted her higher in his arms, accomodating her sudden shift in position, his arm sliding higher along her thighs, making her pause for a moment, "And you're Henry?"

Henry nodded happily, delicately untangling his borrowed coat from a fern, much like Emma used to pull her skirts when she went hunting with her parents, "I'm a junior deckhand on board The Jolly Roger"

"A Junior Deckhand" Emma repeated, smiling. _Talking_. It had been years since she had someone to talk to, "Sounds pretty important"

"I'm really good at scrubbing decks" Henry agreed. Smee let out another sound of disgust, as though his prowess with a mop and bucket was somehow challenged by Henry's statement, "Of course, I'm not actually allowed to do anything dangerous and, you know, _piratey_. The Captain says I have to wait in the hold until I'm trained"

The man in question did his very best to remain impassive, his eyes fixed straight ahead as he negotiated the terrain. The party had began to descend a slope, further into the Dark Jungle. Hook was managing fairly well, until the toe of his boot caught on a fern. He skidded forward, the damp earth giving him very little purchase. Emma braced for the fall, painfully aware of her bruised backside from the earlier trip, her arms wound tightly around his neck and face pressed in the crevice where his neck met his shoulder.

His skin was damp against her lips as his fingers moved gently against her hip, "I've got you love, you're not going to fall"

Her knuckles were white from where she gripped her own arms, holding him in one hell of a chokehold. She slowly lifted her face to meet his bright blue eyes, his mouth curved into a half grin "It's not the boys carrying you now"

The way in which he had said _boys_ , the implication, and the deliberate swipe of his tongue along his lower lip would have him clapped in irons in her previous life. That was not the way to speak to a Princess, nor was it way for the upright Lieutenant to address a lady.

She eased her grip around his neck, attempting to settle herself into a less provocative position. She knew it was improper, but she could never resist a case of 'he started it', "I've noticed"

His eyes widened at her flirtacious comment and her appreciative gaze at his body underneath hers, but his eyes remained resoloutely on her face. He wasn't quite the lecherous, immoral pirate he claimed to be, despite her state of undress.

"We'll make camp here" Felix interrupted, addressing all the Boys and the two crews, as the group of around thirty slowly plodded to a halt, "Pan wants us well rested before tomorrow"

The Lost Boys immediately dropped the packs they each carried, unrolling their tarps and creating individual canopies between the trees. Even the members of the other crew began to pull blankets from their packs, fighting amongst themselves for the best spots on the earth.

"Do you have supplies?" Emma knew the answer as Hook, Henry and Smee remained still in hive of activity.

"We're not really here by choice either. Didn't have time to pack" Henry sighed.

"There" Hook's head gestured towards a fallen, mossy log at the edge of the clearing, "We'll rest there"

Hook gently lowered her onto the log, and she couldn't pretend it didn't feel like a loss. His arms were so comforting, the burn of his skin against hers reassuring that he was there. He stood back, stretching his arms and curving his spine, and she noticed with curiosity that a shiny pink line marred his abdominal muscles, "Smee, with me, we'll get some shelter"

Smee, whose mood had only worsened through out the trek grumbled, "Shelter? How? Do you expect me to pull canopy out my ass?"

Hook quickly rounded on him, looming over the shorter man, "We may not be on the bloody ship, but I'm still your Captain"

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry Captain" he stuttered, trying to shrink back into the shrubbery behind him.

Emma's attention was fixed to her right, where the other men had finished their work and were openly watching her, their eyes fixed on her legs, and the area where Hook's shirt lay open against her chest. She pulled the material firmly across her, her regal stare doing nothing to dissuade them, "Hook"

He glanced away from Smee, "What?"

"Give me your dagger"

Her frosty glare had remained on the men across the camp, who were making a very clear show of licking their lips and grabbing their crotches. Hook's eyes followed her stare, whipping in their direction, a low growl rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest.

Ignoring the flutter that primal sound _did not_ cause, she reached out her hand. He placed the ornate dagger in her hand with a little more pressure than was strictly necessary. She recognised her family crest with a jolt, several of them forming the handle along with several sizable rubies. She unsheathed it, the blade warm from its resting spot, tucked into the back of Hook's breeches, "Go get the firewood or whatever"

"Henry, stay here" Hook instructed, rooted to the spot, directly across from the other men.

Henry plopped himself on the log next to her smiling warmly, "You'll be fine"

"Its under the cover of darkness I'm worried about kid" Emma confessed, playing with the dagger. She was by no means a damsel in distress, the combination of her parents tutilage had ensured that. She was pretty positive she could outclass any of those pirates in a sword fight, but the weakness in her legs put her at a significant disadvantage.

"You're sleeping with me" Hook all but growled, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

" _Excuse me?_ " Emma had never heard herself sound like a Queen, but her outrage and embarrassment allowed her to impersonate her mother perfectly. She had been strictly guarded all her life, and alone for the last ten years. She'd barely been kissed, never mind anything else... A deep heat crept up her face, as she thought for too long about just how good it might feel to be in his arms in _another_ way.

Hook sighed, closing his eyes and clicking his tongue against his cheek, "I meant no disrespect Princess, just safety in numbers"

The muscles in his shoulders stiffened, and he abruptly turned and waded into the foliage, Smee slowly following behind him. Emma paused, processing his words. He knew.

He knew who she was, that she wasn't in fact a real mermaid and he said nothing. He was deliberately keeping her secret, given his panicked reaction to his slip up. A different heat flushed her cheeks, not like the burn of his proximity, but warmth. _He remembered her._

"Thank you Lieutenant"

He stopped for a full five seconds, before slicing a fern out the way with his hook.


	3. Chapter 2

Hi!

Thank you for reading (and coming back after the ridiculously long wait). A question in the reviews that I wanted to clarify, cause it's pretty relevant - Emma has aged physically in the ten years she's been "lost". I tried to work into the dialogue, but it isn't too romantic to have Hook say she looks old, so I took the easy way out :)

And yes, I'm emotionally devastated by that season finale.

Any comments/feedback/button clicking makes my day! x

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The first day he met her, Killian could've sworn her eyes were a cornflower blue.

It had been all the men had talked about for weeks - the excitement of the Royal Family seeing fit to visit _their_ ship out of the entire fleet. What set tongues wagging most, however, was the rumoured beauty of the Swan Princess who was as yet to be betrothed. He'd never understood her moniker - one deckhand stated that she'd been born under the cygnus constellation, and that's all that was ever said on the matter. Liam had done his best to silence the sailors loud laughs and wild speculations - each dreaming the Princess would descend from on high and select him as the man of her dreams. His brother was one hell of a Captain, but despite this, the days before the visit the crew had never been giddier.

Killian was determined to keep the men in line. That was his focus; to be the best Liutenant he could to his Captain. He'd prepared himself for pretty blue eyes and blonde curls, nothing more. He rubbed an invisible speck of dust from his white breeches as the Royal carriage came into view.

The King and Queen had led the way, and she'd skipped down the gangplank with all the graces of her mother, hopping onto _The Jewel of the Realm_ with her fathers gusto. Liam, ever the upright Captain, held her hand and helped her down the steps. The sun was bright, glinting across her golden hair. It lay in curls, pinned to the nape of her neck and cascading down her back. Her wide eyes darted in every direction, keen to drink up all the sights and sounds, cupping her hand over her brow as her stylish - yet slightly impractical - bonnet slanted across her face, failed to protect her eyes from the blinding sunshine. Her gown was a light silk, the golden buttercups bright against the cream backdrop.

Killian stood at the head of his men, watching as the Royal Family made their way across the deck, Liam ushering them along as he pointed out various sights, regaling them of tales of life at sea. He was supposed to be watching his men closely, supposed to be watching the progress of his Captain, but he was captivated by her. She stopped every so often, a delicately gloved hand reaching to touch the mast, or a piece of (what he'd always considered) average rigging. Not to the Princess. She looked at everything with wide eyed curiosity, a captivating smile brightening her features. He watched as her slender neck curved, eyes pointing directly above her, watching her family crest blowing gently in the wind. He watched as a curl caught in the wind, gently whipping across her shoulder and dancing along her neck, skimming along her clavicle. His mouth ran dry, imagining tracing a similar path with his lips...

No sooner had his treasonous thoughts descended into the gutter, he was face to face with the Queen. She was watching him curoiusly, her eyebrows raised in patient expectation. His cheeks burned as he swept into a low bow, hoping somehow she could not read his innapprorpiate mind. He repeated his bow towards the King, who nodded in polite return, continuing to murmur lowly to Liam.

He heard a gentle rustling to his left, his eyes trailing slowly around to see the Princess. She stood by him, and he could've sworn she was sparkling brighter than the sun. She seemed like a buzz of nervous energy and excitement, a hurricane of buttercups and ivory in front of his eyes.

He took a steadying breath, his mouth like sawdust and his palms postively damp. Before he could begin his descent into yet another bow, her hand was in his face, and all he could do was stare dumbly at her. Her fingers were curved, the back of her hand raised to him in expectation. The raise of her eyebrows was so uncannily like her mothers, not two minutes before, that he had to check and make sure she was actually by her husbands side, pointing out to sea at some gull.

His strong fingers curled around hers, her ivory glove felt like silk against the blisters and callouses that adorned his well worked hands. He didn't not know if it he imagined it, probably simply sheer will on his part, but he could've sworn her breath became ragged as his lips touched her hand. It was wonderful and yet not enough; the barrier of her glove cut far deeper than it should, representing far more than he'd care to admit in that moment.

The sun hid behind a cloud and he realised his first impressions were wrong, oh so wrong. He was foolish to believe her eyes were cornflower blue; they were green, and every colour in between. The brightness of grass in the morning light; the golden amber of honey; the burnt warmth of autumnal leaves; the jade of a wave as it crests. He could've spent hours staring at her, but no sooner had he realised his mistake she'd gone, trailing slowly behind her parents. He watched her intently, but she never turned to look at him. Not once.

Visits by the Royal family became something of a common occurrence. Rumours circulated rather quickly, the whispers of the townsfolk like mosiquitos buzzing around Killian. They hummed and then they bit: it seemed the Navy was part of a dowry, a bargaining chip to secure the marriage between the Princess and Prince Neal, of the Cassian Isles. Each time a Naval excercise was put on, a gala to show the skill and determination of the crew, his heart ached. His skill and his ship was ensuring that the beauty, his sunbeam was married off, to a Kingdom far way.

On her seventeenth birthday, the high ranking officers were invited to attend the birthday celebrations. For some reason, Liam had seen fit to good naturedly tease him on the day, quite often demanding he kiss his hand. Killian blushed furiously, pulling at his ear in distraction and rushing away at the first opportunity, his mind replaying the feel of her glove against his lips.

The Great Hall was lavishly decorated, candles and white freesias and yellow buttercups adorning every surface. His uniform felt inexplicably tight, the starch of his collar chafing painfully against his neck. He pulled at it in agitation, watching the various Lord's and Lady's mingling.

"Calm down Killian" Liam quietly urged, readjusting his Captain's hat under the crook of his arm.

A few steadying breaths did little to appease his heart when she appeared, flanked by her mother and father. Her golden curls were pinned to the nape of her neck, her creamy white skin contrasted beautifully with the deep crimson gown that clung to her, her full skirt rippling around her like water.

Her father danced with her first, the pride evident in his shining eyes. He waited, patiently waiting for Prince Neal to appear, whisk her away for a romantic waltz and shatter his heart. However, that moment never came. She danced with various Princes and Lords, and Killian found a partner in rum. He had always frowned at sailors penchant for the tipple, but the warm liquid seemed to fill the void in his chest that grew every time he saw her tiara glinting, her servants scurrying to serve her every whim. A million miles from his lowly position.

A new emotion gripped him - a burning in the pit of his stomach, that traced a path to his entire chest, both tightly pressing down and wanting to burst out. His jaw burned from clenching, but he was motionless, rooted to the spot as he watched his brother dancing with her. His hand on her waist, his hand touching hers, her hand on his shoulder, his whispered jokes making her smile and her eyes shine.

He had to leave.

The cool night air quelled some of his anger, but burning pain continued to sit at the base of his stomach, swirling and jolting him. It was bad enough that he knew he couldn't even look at her without pain lancing his chest, but to watch her delicate frame swamped by his brother? No sooner had the thought entered his head he felt sick, the nights libations burning his throat as he retched in the grass.

Like the piss poor pathetic sailor he was.

The next few days Liam eyed him cautiously, Killian's morose state plain for all to see. It was nothing to do with his humiliating puppy dog behaviour at the ball and everything to do with his shame at valuing _anything_ above his brother.

Months later, Killian confessed as much to his Captain, as they'd both enjoyed far too much merriment one night. Liam had laughed, his bright blue eyes shining as he'd slapped Killian's shoulder, the affectionate action jarring the younger man's entire body, "Don't apologise for caring for her as deeply as you do"

He'd never apologised for it, but he never regretted anything more in his life the day his Princess ran away.

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His hook ran along the other man's neck, the tip creating an angry red line in its wake. He adjusted the pressure slightly, a droplet of blood leaking from the puncture, "I'll repeat the instruction, just in case it wasn't clear the first time, mate. Give me the blanket"

The man's muddy brown eyes widened, "But, what about me?"

Renewing his grip on the man's shirt, Killian leant even more of his weight against him, the bark of the tree crackling behind his victims back, "You mistake me for someone who cares. Give me the fucking blanket or I'll tear out each one of your organs and you can use them to keep you warm"

He gasped, eyes darting to the ground, "It's there, take it, just take it"

Killian bent, grasping the moss green blanket, adding it to the pile of firewood, "Thank you for your cooperation"

The man scurried away as Killian snorted. Blackbeard had a knack of employing some of the weakest, yellow bellied pirates to hoist a sail. He traipsed through the thick foliage, reluctantly stepping into the clearing.

The dancing flames cast long shadows across an already treacherous island. The Lost Boys were huddled in a large group, surrounding a bonfire, appearing to eat some sort of... cake? Blackbeards men were in smaller dribs and drabs, eating pitiful scraps of bread and cured meats.

Henry and Emma were seated next to a smaller, separate crackling fire. Henry had a coconut in his hands, attempting to crack the hard shell with a substantial rock, determination etched across his features. His efforts, thought valiant, were fairly futile. Emma's eyes were shining as she watched, biting her lip in an attempt to mask her silent laughter.

He'd been determined to stay away from her - sending Smee back with the first batch of firewood, instructing him to build up the fire, sending him like a little messenger boy with all the fruits he could muster. Obviously, his first mate was positively thrilled by his new tasks.

His first instinct was to protect her, the sight of the scales slipping from her body producing that all too familiar burn in his chest. He ached, the feeling growing hotter as the lecherous eyes around him focussed on her with more force than before, and it was a choice between her and ripping each and every one of them down the middle with his hook. It was instinct to wrap his shirt around her, but the small puffs of her breath dancing along his jaw tightened his stomach in ways he didn't want to comprehend.

He ignored every twist and pull of his heart as she shakily rose to her feet, her lack of coordination and ability a slap in the face compared to the energy and grace he'd seen her exert all those years before. Back when he knew her. When she was a girl and he was a different boy.

His arms snaked around her, his chest puffing slightly with pride as she rested against him. She needed his support, and he was oh so glad to give it. They were closer than they'd ever been. The melancholy at the thought she didn't even know him was solely reserved for the little Liutenant who's heart broke on the morning of her eighteenth birthday. He was Captain Hook now, and she was nothing more than a mermaid. She _had_ to be nothing more than a mermaid.

His dark shirt swamped her frame, and she'd used it to her advantage. She tucked her long legs beneath her, the dark fabric falling far enough so no skin was on display. Her shoulders were hunched, huddled into herself, her arms holding the gaping 'v' of his shirt closed. Her golden locks lay in soft curls, tumbling down her back like the day he met her.

Hook started towards his group, depositing more logs on their pile and tossing the borrowed blanket at Henry. The boy beamed, the long sleeves of the leather coat rendering his hands to nothing more than long sheets of material as he dropped the coconut and stone.

Emma barely spared him a glance as he settled on the mossy log beside her, her her eyes never leaving the flames in front of her. Her arms seemed to relax, her rigid posture smoothing as she reached for one of the cocunuts as she and Henry set back to work.

Her lack of attention was a relief. Pan didn't need to start questioning how a mermaid knew of a young Lieutenant, and Hook didn't want to delve into the past. It was best kept where it was.

When the sun was setting, the blistering Neverland heat evaporated into a distinctly chillier breeze. Grateful for the warmth the fire provided, Hook pulled his earlier discarded waistcoat across his bare shoulders, his clammy skin sticky against the material.

Henry sighed loudly, blowing his damp fringe from his forehead, his coconut distinctly whole. Hook snatched the fruit from the boy, piercing the top with his hook. Henry's grin was practically splitting his face as he took the fruit back.

Emma held out hers, never meeting Hook's eyes, staring intently at the chain in the centre of his chest. He cut into the hard shell silently, but soft stroke of Emma's fingers as he passed it back jolted him, "You're freezing, love"

She bit her lip, "The water's tropical round here"

Henry had already removed his borrowed coat, throwing it over Emma's shoulders. "Thanks kid" she smiled, pushing her arms into the sleeves as Henry cocooned himself into his new blanket.

Hook paused, helplessly wrapping his arm round her and rubbing along her bicep quickly. She immediately relaxed into him, drinking the fruit, staring at the flames once again. Her cheeks had turned to a rosy pink so Hook, pleased his efforts, unwound himself from her and picked up his own dinner.

Smee pottered over, his mouth full of cake as he flopped to the ground near the log. He too had acquired a blanket, though Hook expected it was through different means; his first mate liked to steal items away and hope and pray his Captain would back him in a fight. He raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

They remained that way for a little longer - Henry chattered on as he always did, Smee dozed gently, Hook scratched aimless drawings into the log and Emma stayed huddled into the coat, her nose resting in the inside of the collar as she nodded along with Henry's tales.

Suddenly, every fire in the camp was extinguished. Hook's spine snapped straight as Pan appeared on the largest boulder, at the edge of the clearing his grin wide, "Time for bed, boys and _girl._ We've got a big day ahead of us"

The control of their leader was strong; the lost boys seemed to drop where they sat. Blackbeard's pirates were less obedient, whispering animatedly and once again gesturing to the sole woman by his side.

Before Emma could pull the dagger from her sleeve, Hook lowered himself onto the the moss and reached for her, "Ignore the bastards and get some sleep"

She paused, eyes skimming the dark campsite, "I'm right here" Hook reassured, "Stay by me and you'll be fine"

Emma's features fixed, her decision made. She propelled herself forward, and Hook cringed as she simply slipped forward with a loud "oof", silently cursing her that she didn't let him help her. There was at least a metre between them, and he thought nothing of wrapping his hand around her and pulling her towards him.

She immediately stiffened and a smile quirked his lips, "Safety in numbers, sweetheart. I only have honourable intentions"

She relaxed as they lay side by side, shoulders brushing. She began to shift beside him, wiggling from side to side. He sighed loudly, ready to ask what the hell she was doing, when a weight landed on his chest. He raised an eyebrow at her as she manouvered his coat, spreading it across them both like a blanket.

She rolled to the side, the entirety of her soft curves pressing against the side of his body as she curled an arm under her head and stared at him. He lay on his back, his head turned as he continued to stare at her, her breath softly fanning across his face. His intentions were honourable, but his thoughts were less pure as he stared at her beauty. He'd kept his focus on the terrain earlier, knowing all too well how bloody surprising Neverland could be. Now she was as close as before, and he couldn't help but let his concentration lapse. Her lips were rosier than he remembered, her nerves clearly prompting her to bite at them in agitation. A few freckles dotted the bridge of her nose, and he absentmindedly wondered if they'd always been there. The eyes he had dreamed of for years stared at him, her lids slowly and consistently blinking, sleep trying to claim her.

He turned to the sky, staring as the bruising purple bled into inky blue. The fireflies buzzed above their heads, the full moon brightening the dark sky. "What happened to us?" Her voice was so quiet, he thought he might've imagined it.

He closed his eyes, sighing "I've not got a fucking clue"


	4. Chapter 3

Hey guys!

I'm currently having difficult uploading chapter 3 to the site, but I'll keep trying to get it available here :)

Available at: adorbes-vorbes. tumblr post/ 144806868627/ all-that-ill-ever-need

OR

archive of our own works /6963163/ chapters / 15875272

[Obviously without the spaces!]

Thanks! x


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